Happy Hogswatch, Jonathan
by 13 o'clock Erik
Summary: Jonathan Teatime found death to be a most inconvenient state of being." Susan/Teatime. Gratuitous amounts of fluff and... bathtubs.


Jonathan Teatime found death to be a most inconvenient state of being

"_**Happy Hogswatch, Jonathan."**_

M

Romance/Humour

&

Jonathan Teatime found death to be a most inconvenient state of being. He wondered, as he floating aimlessly in what he supposed to be "the aether" what exactly he was doing drifting in so tiresome a fashion. More importantly, he wondered where the rest of his body had gotten to; he was quite certain that he had had possession of it fairly recently. Teatime thought wistfully back upon the manner of his death. His mind wandered inexplicably to the stern faced governess who had inhumed the assassin so deftly. He couldn't help by admire the Elegance with which Susan Sto Helit had dispatched him; a mere flick of the wrist that sent the fire poker soaring through the air to strike him neatly and quite fatally in the chest.

for all his skeletal, hooded melancholy and well earned morbidity, was a softhearted old fool. Having just finished Jonathan Teatime' Auto-Biography, Death felt Teatime's death might be better spent Living. Perhaps with Susan. After all, Teatime had the soul of a child and Susan was a most accomplished Governess. Death had already broken The Rules once, on this most peculiar Hogswatch, and rather than quit while he was ahead, decided upon digging himself an even deeper grave. He deliberately ignored The Rules once more and gifted an otherwise undeserving individual back his Life. With a rather unpleasant sound, reminiscent of a plunger being pulled away from something which, for the sake of decorum, shall remain unmentioned. Jonathan Teatime was propelled rather suddenly back into the plane of The Living.

&

It wasn't as if she were _completely_ accustomed or expectant of being interrupted in the middle of the night by strange events and happenings having to do with the paranormal, the magickal, or the anthropomorphic personificational. However, there were very few things left in Ankh-Morpok that could catch her off guard. Thus; when the vaguely attractive, previously deceased, mono-glass-eyed assassin suddenly materialized in her room and began staring at her in a manner that could only be described as severely twitter-pated; Susan merely sighed, book-marked her spot in the encyclopaedia she was perusing, and fixed Teatime with a mildly annoyed stare.

"Mr Teatime," she said irately. "It is most improper of you to be in my bedroom at this hour."

Teatime cocked his head at her and stared back. Susan did not find his mismatched eyes unnerving. Indeed, it only accentuated what could be described as his "warped boyish charm". She wasn't sure if the somewhat ridiculous look on his face were because he had just been brought back from the dead or if it were just his normal, somewhat disturbing, expression.

"I assure you, madam, I had not the intention of intruding. Although I must say it is a rather welcome surprise." he said, blinking at her and wiggling his newly reclaimed fingers experimentally.

Susan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her be-night-gowned chest.

"Exactly _what _are you doing here, Mr Teatime?" Susan demanded.

"I'm not exactly sure." he replied in his strange, high voice. "Although I think it might have something to do with that rather spectacular way in which you dispatched me to the Great Beyond."

Susan huffed, most irritatedly. It was very late. Tomorrow was the first day of her Hogswatch vacation. She didn't want to be dealing with a suddenly not-dead Teatime; but the fellow did look a bit peaky and the governess part of her told her that one night in doors in the chair by the fire would do him good.

She grudgingly barked at him to settle himself in her armchair and not make a sound until morning. Shooting him a death glare, she snuggled under her blankets and shut her eyes. Unfortunately, she suddenly realized that she was not the only occupant of her bed. Susan turned over to see Teatime lying next to her.

"I was cold." he answered as she began to open her mouth to berate him.

"You _could_ have asked for a blanket."

"I could have. But I didn't. Besides, it's much warmer here." he blinked his mismatched eyes at her.

Being a sensible and logical individual, this explanation was quite enough for the exhausted governess. She shoved a pillow in between them and flopped back onto her side, facing away from him.

"You're out of here in the morning, Teatime." She grumbled.

"It's pronounced Tey-a-ta-may." he drawled in a vague semblance of annoyance.

"_**GO TO SLEEP.**_" Susan commanded, using The Voice on him.

It had been an incredibly long day. She'd defeated Teatime, saved the Hogfather, defeated Teatime again, gotten the children through Hogswatch, killed Teatime with a fireplace poker, and was now in bed next to previously mentioned dead assassin who was decidedly Not Dead at the moment. In fact, he was a great deal closer to her than she would have preferred. Wait a moment, she thought, I had a pillow behind me a moment ago. Susan gingerly felt behind her; the pillow she had placed between them seemed to have miraculously disappeared. She'd have to look into that later. Pillows didn't just go around disappearing, especially when they were put there for a very good reason. She shook herself internally, trying to get her mind back on track. Ah yes; Teatime, in her bed for some peculiar reason. Susan suddenly stretched her arms behind her, muscles needing movement, and accidentally brushed what she found to be bare skin. She blinked. Teatime had removed his outer coat and waistcoat but thankfully had left his trouser and shirt on. He was awfully warm; she could feel the heat coming off of his body in waves. Unconsciously, she scooted a bit closer. It _was_ terribly cold, after all and it'd be a shame to waste all that heat…

In Teatime's warped and yet childish mind, there was nothing wrong with seeking warmth in a bed with someone who had earlier that day killed him. In any case, she smelled quite lovely and didn't take up a whole lot of room in the bed. He could stretch out if he wanted; instead he remained on his side, staring at the tangled mess of hair at the back of Susan's head. Susan let out a decidedly eloquent snore. Teatime raised an eyebrow.

The following morning both occupants of Susan's bed awoke to find themselves in a very compromising position. Arms and legs were askew in a manner that defied logic, physics, and common decency. Susan awoke first and looked over at her bedmate only to discover that she was somewhat pinned. One of her errant legs had twined around his in a very provocative manner. One of them must have been having a _very_ good dream. Indeed; in sleep Susan found Jonathan Teatime to be even more little boy-like than usual. His blonde curls were tousled and his lower lip was slightly extended in a pout. Teatime shifted in his sleep and Susan suddenly found herself even more compromised as one of his arms snuck around her waist. She could feel his hot breath on her throat and to her dismay, her heartbeat quickened. _Stop that at once! _She ordered her heart, but to no avail. Susan closed her eyes tightly; Teatime was nuzzling her throat in a manner that would never betray the fact that only last night she had speared him to death through the chest with a decorative fireplace poker. As the first time his death hadn't stuck, Susan was sorely tempted to try again for this effrontery to her noble position of astute governess; not to mention Granddaughter of Death. She had never before been treated like an overgrown teddy bear, nor had she ever found herself pinned by what could loosely be referred to as "a man". She fiddled absently with his offending hand. The nails were bitten short and the pads of his fingers were callused from years of knife practice. Susan picked absently at a piece of skin on his thumb; then, realizing what she was doing, she flung his hand away.

Struggling to loosen one arm, she prodded him in the chest. As she attempted to wriggle free, Teatime awoke. He stared at her, his mismatched eyes combining with his youthful face to form an expression of bastardised boyish interest. His expression seemed to ask her what exactly she thought she was doing. Her answering expression quite clearly told him to piss right off before she boxed his ears. Teatime grinned a disturbing smile and very suddenly darted forward and kissed her on the very tip of her pert little nose. Susan frowned most stormily. Teatime stared. From there, things got weird.

It was the furthest thing from a whirlwind romance that anyone could ever hope to get. She wasn't Juliet and he _most certainly_ was not Romeo. Indeed, neither of them was particularly suited to roses and chocolates and candlelight suppers on the veranda of some water's edge café with heartfelt declarations of love in the form of carefully rhyming sonnets. However, they now found themselves both fighting for the upper hand in the bizarre circumstances that seemed to constitute a romantic relationship of sorts. Their first real physical "encounter" left both parties bruised and exhausted.

Jonathan's ears were still ringing from when she had boxed him about the head. True, he _had_ commented most rudely on the expression on her face mid-en flagranté. Now he lay flat on his back staring up at the murky ceiling of Susan's room, her hand playing fretfully in the baby fine blonde fuzz on his chest.

"This," Susan started, her tone serious. "is all _very_ strange."

"It is indeed." Jonathan agreed, taking her hand in his and tracing patterns in her palm. His usually high voice was a bit hoarse from their prior strenuous activity.

"If you're expecting me to just give up my name and my position and run away with you, you've got another thing coming to you." Susan said, most ferociously. "I am not a woman to be kept by anyone."

"Oh I'd never even consider it." the Assassin said absently, still drawing symbols on his bed-mate's hand. "Indeed, it seems that _you_ have been keeping _me_."

"I most certainly have not!" Susan protested, attempting to pry her hand from his grip.

Teatime let out a short disturbing laugh and made his grip on her firmer.

"You _have_ been keeping me. I haven't left your bed, much less your room, in twenty four hours." Jonathan kissed the palm of his captive's hand, his tongue darting out to tickle her lifeline.

Susan's hand darted out and before Teatime's mind could register it, he found himself with Susan sitting on his chest with one of his knives pressed against his throat. Teatime's thin lips curled into a smile; he couldn't help but be a little excited by Susan's aggressive behaviour. No one had ever bested him at his own game. No one that is… until Susan.

"See? As I said: _captive_." Teatime said with a self-satisfied grin.

Susan huffed at him; a few tendrils of hair had worked their way free of her messy bun and were waving frantically in Teatime's general direction. Jonathan reached out and Susan's hair twined lovingly around his fingers.

"Stop that at once!" she reprimanded her errant follicles, her face turning red. Her hair _always_ did this; expressing what her heart felt but her head denied.

Using her moment of inner turmoil against her, Jonathan knocked her off balance and pinned her.

"_Teacup_-" Susan started to growl.

"It's pronounced-" he interrupted.

"Teh-ah-ta-may." they both said together, Susan's voice somewhat weary.

Susan struggled against him but he was stronger, although not by much. Theirs had been a battle of wills from the first moment. Her breasts heaved as she breathed heavily out of irritation and frustration. He remained in a position of domination, his mussed curls sticking out in various directions. Teatime slowly leaned down and touched his lips lightly to her throat. Susan started a sound that was meant to be a growl of disapproval but soon evolved into a squeak when his fingers travelled over her smooth stomach to somewhere she had never intended anyone's fingers but her own to go. She hated being dominated like this... And she also loved it. Quite suddenly she found herself exposed to the cold winter air of her bedroom. Jonathan had leapt up, pulled up his trousers, and sauntered to the bathroom.

"I think, I'll have a bath." he said in a sing song-y voice.

"Bastard!" she called after him.

He childishly blew a raspberry at her before slamming the lavatory door behind him. She heard the water being turned on and the bath being filled up. Susan huffed irritatedly at him, attempting the calm her frazzled nerves. That incorrigible man! Getting her all excited like that and then leaving to have a bath in the middle of things. The sound of water in the bath shut off and she heaved herself to her feet. She had half a mind to give him what for. A cloud of steam hit her in the face as she opened the bathroom door. Teatime sat in the lion-footed bathtub with water up past his chest and-

"You know," Susan said, trying to be tactful. "one generally takes one's pants off _before_ entering the bathtub."

His disconcertingly mismatched eyes blinked up at her. The humidity in the bathroom was making Susan's hair frizzy and anxious. She hopped into the bath with him, sloshing water over the sides. Susan settled herself in Teatime's be-pants-ed lap, wriggling into a more comfortable position and deliberately elbowing him in the solar plexus. She leaned her head back on his shoulder. It was a very bony shoulder, she thought as her disobedient hair tickled Jonathan's throat affectionately. He sighed and rested his chin on the top of her head, one hand distractedly smoothing a spot just behind her ear. He found it very strange, he thought, that it should be this _particular_ woman whose mere presence calmed him.

Indeed, to earn _his _affections, women seemed to have to literally kill him before he would take notice. Although in Susan's case, he had noticed her quite a bit earlier. It was only after she has skewered him through the chest with a decorative fireplace poker that he had started acting like a complete lovesick fool. On that note; Susan manoeuvred onto her stomach and began to bother the small, diamond shaped scar in the centre of Jonathan's solar plexus.

"I'm not sorry that I did that." she said firmly.

"Neither am I." Teatime replied affectionately.

"You look like a deranged porcelain doll, first thing in the morning." Susan pointed out suddenly.

"So I have been told." he sighed.

"Have you _really_?" Susan said, surprised.

"Yes, by a fellow student of The Guild. I killed him shortly after that. He was ever so bothersome." Jonathan spoke as if he were referring to an irritating hangnail, or perhaps a particularly stubborn nose-hair.

"I'm turning into a prune." Susan announced astutely.

She used Teatime to leverage herself out of the bath, feeling no remorse at using his head to steady herself as she stepped out of the tub. Susan wrapped a towel around her, gave him a kiss on the top of the head, and then padded back to bed. As she had just left Jonathan sitting in the bathtub, she did not at all expect to collide with a bare male chest as she exited the bathroom. She swore.

"How _do_ you do that!" she demanded.

"That would be telling." Teatime replied smugly.

She wasn't sure how he had managed it, but Teatime had her back against a wall. With a flick of the wrist, the towel fell to the floor and Susan was suddenly very acutely aware that the assassin must have left his soggy trousers in the bathroom. Susan felt hot breath on her throat as her… whatever he was, pressed a kiss there.

"That's. Not." _Fair_." she panted.

This time they managed to break a vase that was on the completely other end of the room. They wound up in many strange positions; one of which propelled them right off the bed to land in a tangled heap of sweaty arms, legs, and blankets. At least, Susan conceded as she stared down at Teatime, she had managed to stay on top.

"Magnificent." Teatime mumbled later on as Susan rolled off of him and sprawled next to him. "I don't think I shall be able to move tomorrow."

"As I have just demonstrated, I don't _need_ you to move." Susan said smugly.

"Mhmmm." He said tiredly, smiling a satiated smile.

Susan flipped onto her side and threw a leg across his waist. She rested her forehead and nose against his bicep. Odd, how he managed to smell good even after all that… activity. Her right hand began to fiddle with an errant blonde curl by his ear. Teatime reached over and laid a possessive hand on her shoulder.

"Happy Hogswatch, Jonathan." Susan murmured.

&

R&R please. May or may not continue with the fluffiness.


End file.
